


Where I'm With You

by longleggedgit



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-28 18:13:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13277103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/longleggedgit/pseuds/longleggedgit
Summary: Pippin struggles to settle back into life in the Shire.





	Where I'm With You

**Author's Note:**

> More movie-compliant than book-compliant, because I couldn't give up that reunion scene on Pelennor Fields. ♥

There was no shortage of celebrations to attend once they were settled again in the Shire, and Pippin supposed he should be grateful for it, though grateful was far from what he felt. Once he would have very much enjoyed finding himself the center of attention at so many dinners and parties, but now the events themselves seemed tedious, the questions about his adventures irritatingly short-sighted. Everyone wanted to know about villains he had fought and riches he had gained, but no one asked about the parts of his journey Pippin still woke up trembling over: the lives he'd watched end; lives he'd taken; the stink of the Pelennor Fields, blood-stained and burning at battle's end.

Recalling Pelennor could make Pippin tremble even awake, and he struggled to shake it from his mind now, trapped as he was in his uncle's home in Tuckborough. It was the fourth such welcome home party he'd been guest of honor to since returning, and he had spent the last quarter hour of it crouched behind a barrel in the pantry, hoping dearly that everyone would be drunk enough by the time he emerged that he could have some peace. It was just his luck, then, that the door to the pantry opened at the moment of his realizing that barrels were no longer tall enough to hide him.

"I'll be just a minute," Pippin said briskly, trying to make it look as though he'd been bent over searching for something to eat.

He heard the door close again, and jolted to attention when a familiar voice said, "Would you hurry up, then? Only I've been trying to track you down for at least twenty minutes, and it was no easy feat slipping away from Everard and Melilot once they caught sight of me."

"Merry!" Pippin leapt out from behind the barrel and rushed forward, kicking over a few jars in his hurry to greet him. When he gripped Merry's arms, Merry gripped his right back, and they were both instantly beaming. Pippin had to blink back sudden, unexpected tears of relief, but he was too pleased even to be embarrassed. He wiped his eyes with the back of one hand and kept clutching Merry's elbow with the other.

"Hello, Pip." Merry squeezed his elbow in turn.

"Merry. I didn't know you'd be here."

Merry shrugged. "I was supposed to be in attendance at Berilac's birthday, strictly speaking, but I find myself able to get away with just about anything lately."

Pippin laughed, too relieved to do or say anything else. It had only been four days since he and Merry had parted, and every moment of it Pippin had spent wondering how much longer he could take. He'd felt like this even before their adventure, to some extent, but it was different now. Where once he simply longed for the joy of hours spent with a best friend, now being apart from Merry felt as if he'd removed his own arm and sent it away from him. The scant miles separating Tuckborough and Buckland might have been as great a distance as the Shire was from Minas Tirith.

"Shall we get out of here?" Merry asked.

Pippin nodded ferociously. "But how? We're a rather conspicuous pair these days." Not least of all since they'd both grown a foot taller.

"Hold on."

Merry pushed the door open, taking care that Pippin was still hidden even as he popped his head out and greeted someone in the kitchen. Pippin heard them exclaim, and then Merry's response, easy as anything: "Pippin? I was just looking for him, myself. I'll take the study if you check the atrium."

There was a sound of agreement, and then whoever had been in the kitchen left, and Merry tugged Pippin forward by the cuff of his sleeve.

"Quickly!"

They raced side-by-side for the study, and from there it was nothing but an easy climb out the open window before they were outdoors, safely cloaked in darkness, laughing their way down the hill to the creek.

"I've never been happier to be away from a party," Pippin said, a little breathless, mostly from exhilaration.

To his left, Merry had already taken a seat on the bank to dip his feet in the water. The glow of the house back up the hill was just bright enough to make his features discernable. He looked pleased, too, but also thoughtful.

"It's been awful," Merry said. He was looking down at the creek, but he glanced sideways as Pippin dropped to the grass by his side.

"Yes," Pippin said.

"I thought it would be fun, all the attention, but—"

"But it's all so _dull,"_ Pippin supplied.

Merry nodded. "And more than that. They can't understand any of it. They act as if we've just come back from a tour of the country."

"They think war sounds glamorous."

They both fell silent, perhaps remembering just how far from glamorous it had been. At least, that was what Pippin was doing. He shivered, although the night was not cold.

"When I saw you on Pelennor," he said, slowly, "I was sure you were—" He couldn't finish. Pippin licked his lips and turned his gaze fully on Merry, sorry now that he'd said it.

"I know, Pip." Merry's voice was very quiet. "But I was all right. We were both all right."

It was true, and Pippin knew he should be nothing but grateful. Yet still he was weighted down by the memory, trapped. "I dream about it," he admitted. "Almost every night—I've hardly slept since we've been back—"

"Pippin." Merry caught his arm again, and Pippin was glad for the contact. "I know it doesn't always feel like it, but we're safe now. It's over. Nothing can hurt us here."

"I don't like being apart." It sounded stubborn and childish, the way he said it, but Pippin was glad he'd gotten the words out even so. "Merry. Can't we stay together? Can't you stay here, or I come to Buckland?"

Merry hesitated, and then drew his feet out of the creek, turning more fully toward Pippin. "I—I don't know. But I think so." Pippin found his hands in the dark and Merry squeezed them between his own, hard. "I don't like being apart, either."

Pippin's relief made him nearly giddy. He sighed and leaned in, dropping his forehead to Merry's shoulder, and turned toward Merry's neck. His mouth was just brushing the skin there, and at his first breath across it, Merry stiffened. Pippin went still, too; he was unsure, at Merry's hesitation, suddenly overcome with doubt.

It had been easy, before. They had never hesitated to find each other's mouths, or hands, or skin, when they were still young and ignorant of the world outside the Shire. But their journey had been long, and too full of peril and restless nights to allow for such things. Pippin struggled even to recall the last time they had kissed in earnest, though he thought it must have been Rivendell. Yet at some point along the way, even in the midst of all the danger and sadness, Pippin had grown to realize he craved Merry's touch more, not less, than he had done in simpler times. What had once been a warm, glowing ember of fondness in his chest had sparked into wildfire. He thought if he couldn't have Merry again, and soon, it might burn him to ashes.

"Merry," Pippin said. Merry shifted, but did not pull away, nor did he let go of Pippin's hands. Just below his mouth, Pippin thought he could feel Merry's pulse beating faster.

"Merry," Pippin said again, his voice hoarse, on the edge of desperate. "So much has changed. Please—not us, too."

A sound came from deep in Merry's throat, and Pippin would have been at a loss to interpret it, except that Merry moved then, and found Pippin's mouth with his own, and pressed him down into the grass.

"Not us," Merry agreed, just a ghost of breath across Pippin's lips, before they were kissing again.

The sounds of the party occasionally drifted out open windows and down the hill toward them as they stripped each other of their clothes, but they were easy to ignore, and soon all Pippin could hear were his own gasps coupled with Merry's. They took their time rediscovering what once had been so familiar. Despite how long it had been, it was easy, Pippin thought, to again find the places that set Merry moaning under his fingertips, and easy, too, to let go of worry. They had been through too much, fought too many battles, to fear something as simple as this.

After, they held each other, shuddering occasionally with pleasure and the air cooling on their sweaty skin. Pippin refused to be the first to suggest they break apart and dress, and he suspected Merry felt similarly.

"You can come to Buckland," Merry said, making Pippin lift his head from where it rested on Merry's chest. "It's a nightmare of callers looking for stories or a share of treasure, but I suspect that'll be the same anywhere in the Shire. And we can always steal the ferry if we need to escape for a day."

Pippin smiled. "Or a week."

"Or a year," Merry agreed. "You know, I think my father's cousin's house might be empty since he got married."

"Mmm." Pippin hummed, enjoying the idea of a place to themselves very much. "When can we leave?"

Merry ran a hand through his curls, and Pippin leaned into it.

"Anytime," Merry said. He caught one of Pippin's curls and tugged on it. "Well, no. Anytime starting tomorrow. For tonight, I'm afraid we're either going to have to brave your uncle's house again, or sleep out here in the grass."

"I find," Pippin said, returning his head to Merry's chest and pressing a kiss there, "that I rather missed grass. Not enough grass outside the Shire."

Merry clicked his tongue, but he was chuckling, too, and he didn't protest. With one hand, he cradled the back of Pippin's head, while the other stroked up and down Pippin's back, and soon, Pippin forgot the cooling air. Far from cool, he now thought he might be burning up—but pleasantly, wonderfully. If he was a wildfire for the rest of his days, that would be just fine. He was no longer worried about turning to ashes.


End file.
